Brb Gonna Go And Ball My Eyes Out Now - Blog Posts

[ 𝟏𝟏:𝟐𝟑 𝐏𝐌 ] — 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈

warnings: mentions of abuse (hanma’s home life)

the light tapping on your window from hanma makes you quietly shuffle out of bed, careful not to let your parents hear as you cautiously open it and let your boyfriend in. he offers you a tight smile, climbing through quietly and standing before you.

“hey, baby—sh-shit,” he cuts himself off with a wince as you hug him. immediately, you pull away, concern written all over your face as you glance him over. his hair is disheveled and his jacket, thrown on in haste, hides the rips in his shirt. “just kinda sore, is all,” he tries to reassure you, but his voice wavers the slightest bit.

and then it clicks.

hanma seems unbreakable, untouchable, even. you’ve been guilty of seeing him that way countless times yourself, but dating hanma let’s you see more to him than what meets the eye. he’s human, you’ve seen this countless times. he has weaknesses, fears, and he has his own battles and inner turmoils. just like everyone else.

but mostly, he has a shitty hell hole of a home that you can’t wait to get him out of.

“was he drunk again?” you murmur, pushing back a few stray strands of hair from his face.

he doesn’t meet your eyes, and you know it’s hard for him to open up about these things to you. it’s hard for him to admit that he lets these things happen to him in the walls of his own home while he roams the street almost like a god amongst men. it’s hard for him to look you in the eye and let you see the sore parts and the battered and bruised ones too.

inside and out.

“when’s he not?” he chuckles bitterly. “‘s okay, baby. i’m okay,” he shrugs. but before he can make his way past you and climb onto your bed, you lay a hand on his cheek, making him pause. it’s the gentleness of your touch, how tender and careful and loving it is when it comes to him, how you treat him like he’s made of glass even if he’s much stronger than you—not because he’s weak, but because he’s precious—that makes you home for hanma.

not that shitty busted down apartment with his drunkard father that likes to take swings at him for the littlest of things.

“shuji, let me see,” you insist. he hesitates, he doesn’t want you to see the bruises that litter his body from his father’s escapade tonight. and he remembers laying as a child, back when he used to let tears stream down his face, how he’d always dreamt of having somewhere to run to.

and now, now that the tears don’t come, now that he simply takes it like he’s trained himself to do, he realizes he does have somewhere to run to. your arms, no matter where you might be, are his safe haven.

as are his for you.

“don’t worry—”

“i always worry,” you cut him off. and for a second, he stares at you so intensely, you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. but then, he buries his head into your neck, clutching onto you tightly as you feel small tears drop and wet your skin. it’s been a really long time since hanma’s let himself cry over his fucked up home and his fucked up dad, but now he has someone to wipe the tears, and it’s almost overwhelming—the warmth and the hope, he’s never felt things like that before.

“didn’t even say shit to him this time,” he grits his teeth. “went off over nothing,” his voice cracks along with your heart.

and of the two of you, you’ve always had a better moral conscience, but for a split second, it flies out the window as you wish the worst upon the man who’d hurt the boy in your arms. some day, you think, when you and hanma get away from all of this, you’ll both give his father a taste of his own medicine.

but for now, you turn to your boyfriend, rubbing his back soothingly as you press a soft kiss to the side of his head. he sniffles, relaxing slightly when your fingers thread through his messed up hair.

“he won’t be able to hurt you for much longer,” you promise. “and then we’ll burn his whole place down,” you smile, bringing his face out of your neck and cupping his cheeks. he lets out a watery chuckle as your thumb wipes the stray tears.

“he’s gotta be in it when we do,” he adds. hanma let’s himself sit on your bed, watching as you pull out a hoodie you’d stolen from him, making your way over.

“of course,” you grin, kissing his forehead. “i’ll go get you something to eat, i’m sure you haven’t eaten much,” you say quietly. and he knows it’s an excuse to leave him to change out of his ruined shirt alone, he knows it’s so he doesn’t have to feel any weaker than he already does from you seeing the marks that litter his upper body.

hanma promises he’ll offer you everything you’ve given him and more some day, he’ll have the city down on its knees before him, and he’ll make sure you’re there by his side watching.

“make sure to get me something sweet,” he calls, grinning when you roll your eyes.

“you can have something sweet after some real food, shuji,” you say sternly, and the fondness in your voice and the softness of your gaze makes him realize he’d follow you everywhere—to the end of the world and beyond that if he has to, just for the taste of home you give him.